


A prayer to the late afternoon sun

by Wavyscribe



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: AU - Superpowers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Children, F/M, Fluff, Future AU, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Post Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wavyscribe/pseuds/Wavyscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you think that they're really up there?"</p><p>"Who? That who is where?"</p><p>"In heaven I mean. Laura told me they went there after they..- and I..."</p><p>A tear ran down the boy's flushed cheeks.</p><p>Stiles sighed, but continued in his endeavor of comforting the smaller boy with warm little gestures.</p><p>"My Mum. She's up there too, ya'know? Dad says she's watching over me from up there..."<br/> <br/>Or:</p><p>The one where Derek falls for Stiles, Stiles is an irritably adorable idiot who doesn't know what to do with himself and Lydia who missed out on the popularity train (lessevil!Lydia) finds love in unexpected places, in the most clichéd way possible. </p><p>Throw in the meddling stereotype best friend Scott who's head over heels for Allison plus a badass Laura, spice it up with some magic baddies, mix well and you'll have the most unforgettable end-of-term school play in history.</p><p>Serve with a garnish of dry humor and unrequited crushes.<br/>Enjoy while hot and fluffy. One serving may be sufficient for a pack of werewolves or a bunch of squealing fangirls.</p><p>(Chapters 1-10 serve as a sort of prologue; you may skip to after that if you don't like that)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prayer [II] - Erica Side: Gazing into the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> [A/N] [Disclaimer: Nothing, but the plot of this fic belongs to me; all rights to their rightful owners]
> 
> Hello everyone!  
> now that the formalities are outta the way I'm really happy that you decided to pick up my first fic on this website. I hope it'll be a great experience for both me, the author, and you, the reader!  
> In this work of fiction Derek and Stiles are similar in age, Laura didn't die in the Hale fire, werewolves are just some hairy dudes made popular by Twilight and Lydia as well as Jackson will both have a slightly different past which led to slightly different personalities, but you'll all find out soon enough.
> 
> Now onto the good part!
> 
> (Don't forget to leaves comments and kudos if you like the story!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> The layout of this fic may be a bit confusing to some, so here's a bit lf explanation beforehand:
> 
> Chapters 1-10 are to be understood as a sort of prequel to the main storyline (and may or may not have another setting too).  
> The main story will take place from after that.  
> I promise it'll make more sense to you once everything is said and done. ^^
> 
> Now please leave some comments if there's something you feel is lacking in my writing (just saying hi will be very welcome to though) or leave some kudos if you aren't the talkative time :)
> 
> Lots of fun reading!
> 
> (╯°Д°）╯︵ /(.□ . \\)
> 
> Wavyscribe out.

As she still vividly remembers, the day Erica lost her last pillar in the world was rainy and grey.  
The omnipresent chill swept from the very ground and air, boring deep into the marrow of one's bones; equally freezing soul and body in its wake.

A lone girl wearing an over-sized and ill-fitting grey overcoat hurried through the bland monotony of a desolate, dying world. Cacophonies of burnt wood and decaying stone whizzed by her peripheral vision as she struggled not to sink into the melting snow, fighting not to succumb to the tempting embrace of nothingness it promised her wordlessly.

  
Shaking her head she caught herself once again.

When there were more urgent matters at hand -  _survival_ for one - it held no meaning thinking about such trivial things. She had already made her decision and was prepared to stick with it, come what may. The girl would fight until the bitter end which, unfortunately, appeared to be far too near for comfort.

All of a sudden, a bright flash lit up the far horizon and the girl came to a stuttering halt, bracing her leather boots firmly against the soft, burnt soil.  
A heartbeat passed, then the cloaked form tucked her face under her stained brown hood and redirected her gaze to the front. Without chancing another look towards the source of imminent danger, she continued on her path, soldiering on against the creeping cold. She kept pressing against smothering winds and rigid mud, a single unattainable target firmly in sight.

 

Had she stopped to think about it, today was no different from her past day, each struggling not to be the last. It wouldn't have been special enough to set itself off against the stark and colorless flurry of weeks and month she had already suffered through to stay in the realm of the living.

 

_Why was she even trying still? Had she not long since learnt her lesson to abandon hope? Where there were no expectation, disappointment cannot spring forth._

 

They were on the run; had always been, ever since she was capable of coherent thought. That particular weathering day wouldn't have been striking or remarkable in any way at all, hadn't it been for that small incident.  
One that released her from her fetters and chains, though casting her out to the mercy of the world's cruelty at the same time.

It wasn't a burden her fragile shoulders were used to bearing.

Erica never came to know _why_ they even had to run, nor did she know _who_ they were constantly on the run from. And now that she had lost her last little sliver of sanity which had tied her to her own life on earth, she no longer had a reason to continue living this farce of an existence.

 

 _It was time she finally gave up_ , a little voice in her head kept repeating.  _It was time to lay down and accept the world's judgement. It was time to finally rest her last._

 

  
Were she completely honest with herself, she'd long lost the will to move forward already; wasn't even sure why she hadn't faded away yet, akin the greenery, once vibrant with life, in her most ancient memories.

Maybe she should have disappeared a long time ago too. Maybe that's why she was still being punished, why misery kept following her like black tar everywhere she went.

Silencing her footsteps on the uneven muddy ground, she mustered up the courage to peer around the corner of the building. Her straining back was uncomfortably pressed against rough stone, the texture pliable and wet due to overgrown moss.

  
Tangible cold slowly extended its claws towards her stuttering heart and started to seep deeply into her soaked, worn clothes. She allowed herself the luxury of another quiet moment before the advent of the storm, a storm she knew was bound to sweep the earth before her feet. The only thing she found herself able to do was to fight it, struggling not to be pulled along into the embrace of merciless darkness.

A puff of warm shaky air clouded her vision for the last time before she turned down the waiting, haggard side street. A shot rang out behind her, closer this time, and, not a second later she sensed the dangerous presences of several of her pursuers closing in behind her.

 

She was not going to win this fight. _Why was she even trying?_

A familiar female voice flooded her memories and light filled her tired eyes. A melody of words she had long since forgotten, had kept sealed deeply under the unruly waves of her sea of memories, suddenly resurfaced, as if after a long and fitful slumber.

 

_If you know that you are not to claim victory, at least go down all guns ablazing._

 

A surprised chuckle rang free at the sound of the distant, almost fond memory.

 

A second passed by. Then another. The small form, crouched low behind broken bricks and other debris, took a shuddering breath to steady herself once more.

Finally, the corners of the girl's lips pulled up into the semblance of what a normal sane person would describe as a smile.

"And that's precisely why I'm not going to go down _like you_ ," The girl murmured to herself while moving to hide herself in a crook fashioned out of several run-down old house walls. Just before fading into the shadows, a single word filled with warm contempt left her reddened lips.

A voiceless accusation chimed into the dark distance filled with suffocating smoke. As if uttering the last war cry of a fey valkyrie.

 

 _Mother_.

 

One last lone tear trickled down a glittering path on the ragged girl's cheeks. They were tinted rosy by the rainy evening chill alongside the sheer force of exhaustion as a result of her panicked escape. The lingering wetness was to be the last one of its kind to ever leave the girl's heart again. Amid seemingly never-ending torrents of the heaven's sorrow the creature made a silent oath to herself, mouth quietly forming its first and last prayer to the skies.

Light of the ending day or approaching morning - Erica had long since lost track of the passage of time and grown numb to the fluent changes in the brightness of day - caught in her wet lashes and glowing circles blinded her for a heart-stopping moment.

Grief strengthened her posture, tensed her muscles in inexperienced anticipation, without knowledge of the child herself. She was one of the last fated children the perishing earth gave birth to, one who was trying to stay up on its own legs in face of an unforgiving world of cruelty.

Since ancient times the core of the living earth granted things only for a worthy sacrifice of equal value. A value that was weighed in lonely nights and empty curses to come.

A shudder ran through the thinly veiled, vulnerable body lying in wait behind decrepit roofs and walls. Observing. Calculating.  
She had a plan and - _if she was lucky enough, that is_ \- maybe it won't end up with her being killed.

Another shot tore through the heavy coat of the lingering black night, this time closer to her location. She felt the aftershock rippling through her entire body like tiny waves on the surface of a pond. Erica readied the cold iron in her sore fingers and inhaled tonelessly.

They were close.

She moved forward on her elbows, the mud sloshing around her disguising her form. It won't be enough to deceive her attackers. Sticks and stones pierced her attire, but she did not take notice, colorless eyes intent on locking onto a target, invisible to her exhausted eyes. She needed time, desperately. Time she didn't _have_.

The street, or rather the incessant creak of brown rain and snow that it had become due to the persistent downpour, was devoid of life. Not a soul could be spied through the cracks in the crumbling bricks she'd been hiding behind. 

_Did she err in her judgement?_

Frantically she began scanning her area of vision. Did she miss something...? _Anything_? Frowning, she crept further out into the open, trying hard to localize her opponents.

Only precious moments later did she notice her mortal mistake.

"Looking for _me_?" A husky, slick voice purred onto the left side of her head, singeing the tips of her left ear a bright red.  
She turned, brain going haywire trying to process the sudden presence of the man that had appeared next to her.

A second later, she was safely out of reach, a few feet away from her original hiding place. It turned out not to have been a waste of precious time to mark safe points prior to the encounter with her enemies.  
But now she had lost two of the meagre advantages she had started out with, the element of surprise and ignorance of her enemies.

It was painfully obvious that she was fighting a losing war.


	2. Prayer [I] - Stiles Side: Walking Shadows and Slumbering Faeries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm not dead -_-  
> As usual, please enjoy the chapter and tell me what you think in the comments! If you don't have time for writing comments because you are procrastinating from actually doing any work like me, then it'd be nice if you at least leave a kudo. ^ω^
> 
> Until next time!  
> ~Wavyscribe

_Summer, year 2X01_

  
Stiles doesn't remember much from the time his mother had still been around.

However, that doesn't mean he has absolutely _no_ recollection of the one person he yearned for both in the light of daydreams and in the dark of nightmares.

  
Ever since he'd been old enough to understand, he held one special small memory dearly buried in the bottom of his heart. He knew, instinctively, whenever friends and family talked over his head about "their loss", it meant more certainty that his mother wasn't going to make it back home. He knew, but he still hoped, still believed.

Until his heart ran dry.

 

As he remembered it, vivid colors were still painting the walls with warm sensations. Warmth accompanied his every motion back when there'd always been a small patch of love and caring at the side of his mother with his name on it.  
He remembered the silent nights only disturbed by the low and soft crackle of their dim fireplace, the soft rocking of the padded chair he and his mother would curl up to.

What he remembered the most clearly was a bed-time story his mother used to tell him just before he was lulled to sleep by the alto of her soft words and the faint smell of carnations and flowering herbs hovering in the air.

 

~*~

 

In his earliest memory, the lights were dim and the day near its end when his mother would pick him up to set gently onto her lap. The bed-time stories, they were his favorite time of day.

  
Every once in a while, when an especially adventurous-minded stray spark lept from their warm fireplace, he suppressed a small yawn while cuddling more firmly against the comforting warmth of his mother. It took a few moments for him to finally find the ideal position but no before long he had settled into a quiet rhythm of inhales and exhales.

Each soft puff of his breath painting new patterns on the cold window. With a kind smile his mother would begin to speak:

 

" _Once upon a time there were two lovers - a goddess of flowers and a mortal shepherd - who met under miraculous occurences.  
The young goddess was used to being in play the whole day between smiling blossoms and trees rumbling with deep laughter._ "

She paused for a moment to tap lightly on his small freckled nose, laughter rich with happiness and good humor.

"Just like someone else we know, right?"

She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling lightly in mirth, when Stiles hid his face where the bend of her shoulders met the soft dip of her neck. After a moment she continued on, her voice crackling with magic.

" _One day she had forgotten the passage of time in her merry-making with her forest friends and was caught in a sudden terrible, terrible thunderstorm._ "

Stiles let out a tiny gasp and lifted his head off the other brunette's shoulder to fix her with an excited look. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Hiding a smile behind her flowing words she resumed her narration.

" _With nowhere to hide in the forest from the onslaught of tens of thousands of rain drops she ran and ran and ran. When she finally fell to the ground - exhausted from the chase of the rain which not even the thickest canopies of the most ancient oak trees could shield her from - she had almost given up all hope.  
Her beautiful butterfly wings were soaked by the rain and therefrom hanging heavily and sadly off her back. She kneeled in a lonesome and desolate puddle of misery silently weeping, back bent by the exhaustion and her misfortune. Her favorite floral dress made from the finest cobwebs woven delicately with a pattern of caterpillar thread were drenched with freezing water. The poor goddess was left shivering and cold to the mercies of the elements with nowhere to turn to for help._ "

Stiles let out a small sound of distress over the character in the fairy tale, but remained otherwise still, so as to not disturb his mother's narration.

" _At that moment, when she had already given up, laying under the crying skies to await the mercy of the heavens, a warm hand reached out to her.  
The goddess, startled by a warm blanket being draped over her thin quivering shoulders, looked up to see a young boy. The concerned youth extended a hand down to where she was kneeling soaked with water, tears and mud with a smile on his lips that opened the skies for her._ "

A smile appeared on Stiles face and his furrowed forehead gave way to a peaceful expression of serenity.

" _After their initial meeting the goddess searched out the young shepherd's company whenever she could and - years later - finally got married to her heart's only love under a bright starry sky.  
They had a lot of merry children who filled their home, which was tiny but full of warmth and love, with life and prosperity._ "

Stiles sighed with content and snuggled into the comfort of his mother's embrace.

"What happened then?"

He asked, trying and failing at keeping his eyes open long enough for them to focus on his mother's face.

" _The King of the Heavens was very displeased, enraged even, about his daughter's union with a man not of celestial blood and forbade the goddess to ever go near the man again. He kept her imprisoned at the end of the skies in a tower of unbelievable height over the clouds. In order to discourage any wandering hero he had her guarded by a fearsome dragon who breathed fire and sulphur over anyone brave enough to challenge him._ "

Stiles looked at his mother, eyes sparkling with excitement and awe. He followed every word flowing gracefully off his mother's lips as if they were a golden melody played on ethereal instruments by the finest musicians of the heavens and beyond.

"But how can the shepherd save her then?"

His mother smiled mysteriously and lifted her patterned blanket to cover the both of them more fully and then continued, voice low and arcane.

" _The shepherd left nothing - not even the wildest ideas - untried and travelled to the edges of the earth with his children searching for a way to free the goddess, but was unable to find anything of worldly origin that could aid him in his endeavors to save his love.  
Every night he looked up at the sky and - thinking of his precious, but far off spouse - sang the same words as if in prayer:_

 _'Oh treasured love of mine, oh brightest light of my life,_  
As long as ye taunting rays of sun continue to pierce my heart with pain,  
As long as ye weak light of my eye stays unwavering,  
As long as my body continues to be drawn by thine fair voice,  
Oh light of our lives, oh treasure of our hearts,  
Lives our hope and gives love to thee.'

_The mortal shepherd did not stop searching for as long as he lived. He did not neglect his children, nonetheless rearing them all into handsome men and beautiful women, each with wondrous abilities of their own._

_It was said that the descendants of his lineage all possessed skills far beyond human reason. Whereas some were known to be able to heal even the strangest and fiercest of illnesses in an instant, others were rumored to be able to conjure up mighty thunderstorms through only the power of the mind alone._ "

"Did the children find their Mum then?"

Stiles tried rubbing the sleep off his eyelids which were heavy with exhaustion. He heard a soft laugh from his mother and then she was gingerly shifting to stand up with a hand on Stiles' back to steady him against her hip.

"That's a story for next time." His mother laughed again, the sound bright like bells on a Christmas Day. "Now off to bed with you. If you're a good boy I'll tell you the rest tomorrow evening, alright?"

Mirth and fond affection lighted her eyes in warm brown hues of color when she leaned down to him after tucking him in. Golden specks danced in her irises when she pecked his cheek and then straightened herself again.  
Before his door could even fall into its lock with a soft, almost inaudible click Stiles was already out like a light.

 

He never did get to listen to the rest of his mother's tale.


	3. Prayer #0: Town of Beginnings

_Summer, year 2X04_

 

~*~

_In a country probably not all too far from your own, in a city - possibly just like yours - there once were two young children, maybe not unlike those you would see running down the busy streets on a late summer afternoon, spreading laughter and innocent glee in their wake, across the dimly illuminated avenues pacted to the brim with greying adults all tending to their own ever so urgent businesses. The youth still untarnished by the onslaught of harsh reality paint the nightly streets with shimmering hues of merry happiness long forgotten by their seniors._

_It's up to anyone's guess to how much the ageless light in their youthful eyes will amount some day in the not so distant future._

_How long will their lifespan last, you may wonder quietly to yourself._

_You may ask yourself whether you have already long since abandoned the tiny embers within your hardened heart or if it still burns on brightly without a care in the world, a blemished by worldly trouble._

 

_While our story may not necessarily have come to pass in your vicinity, country or even anywhere near your time, it is nevertheless a tale worth telling, yarns worth spinning._

_As I lie dying, the last faint pencil strokes of my waning life fill the crisp brown paper clinging to my coolong hands. I am not writing as a last act of vengeance to the all-powerful death accompanying my every motion and thought. Rather than that I pride myself with having lived a fulfilling life and leave this world in the hands of the generations to come._

_As I draw my shuddering last breath, I remember the beauty of life that passes before my mortal eyes and my lips form their last worldly smile reminiscent of the fading earth's fairlec. After which there will be nothing. Nothing but all-encompassing, all-embracing darkness and warmth, light and a never ending yawning void that is death itself._

_I believe that everything and everyone, no matter who or what, in this world has a story of their own to tell even if it is never composed into man-made words. A story - no matter how small - that has its own world to play out in, to grow out in beautifully. Tales that are nurtured by sentiment rather than the mind itself. However, today is not the day that those will come to shine - but do not fret, their rightful turn may come as soon as with the next page of the universe._

_If you listen close and well, you will began to perceive the melodies of the water and mountains, even the ancient earth itself in due time._

_This last page of my existence will be the mirror that reflects the simple story of one soul which, as in many tales of love and togetherness, has been forced to reside in two bodies eternally striving to reunite with its other half but never being granted that privilege._

 

~*~

 

_[~From the memorials of a certain individual from unknown time and_

_displaced space~]_

 

* * *

 

A small outcry of distress made Stiles snap up his head from where he was searching for a four-leafed clover amidst a particularly dense green patch of grass a mall distance off the riverbank.

He strained his ears to try to pinpoint the location of the sound, even going as far as to cup his small hands around his slightly uneven and crooked ears. The short-haired boy stilled his movements as to not miss the moment it happened again.

 

.

..

...

There!

 

Now the sound he heard earlier seemed to have stilled into a soft sobbing that came from somewhere to his right. Slowly he rose on his sneakered feet and stepped around the lone vibrant blotch of green. Now standing he cast a last quick glance over his shoulder as if to communicate the command for the clovers to stay put while he went to investigate.

Then he ran off to find the source of the sound that had struck his momentary fancy.

It seemed to have risen in volume again.

~*~

After a few bends of the glittering sandy river promenade he reached a small playground that laid lazily in the warm afternoon sun. He realized that dawn was fast approaching and he'd worry his dad again if he stayed out too long again.

With a small, almost inaudible, long-suffering sigh he turned to go, resolved to forget about what had attracted him to the small park.

A fierce burst in volume shocked him into stopping in his tracks. Slowly he retraced his steps, mindful of his surroundings, with his last attempts to pet a _particularly_ vicious raccoon fresh in his mind.

 

After searching the park with several quick swoops of his eyes he concluded that there was a ghost some ten feet to his left side possessing a very much hideous piece of architecture that was meant to resemble an elephant.

 _Did nature even make them in that color,_ he wondered out loud unwittingly and jumped at the abrupt halt in sniffles, as which he had finally identified the odd sounds, which emanated faintly from the rusted through slide.

"Who-who's there?"

A small high-pitched voice asked between sniffles from behind the chute and Stiles let go of the breath he didn't even know he was holding in. No ghost out there for him today either. _Again_.

"Uh-Uhm I heard something so I wanted to... Come and see? Yeah, that's it. Not looking for ghosts, nuh-uh, not me. Totally."

Pleased with his _magnificent_ eloquence Stiles grinned at the small and slightly pudgy boy who was inching out cautiously behind the cover of the dull slide with its polka pattern of rusted in screws and old metallic pink paint that had already flaked off in some patches of the structure.

"Ghosts?"

The boy had stepped completely out of the elephant's semi-shadow and was now contemplating Stiles curiously, albeit timidly, with a shy twinkle in his hazel eyes.

"There are... Ghosts?"

Stiles smiled to himself, happy to find somebody to talk to who wasn't part of the big smiling faceless mass offering empty hugs and blank words of comfort.

"You bet there are!"

He enthusiastically punched the air and walked closer to the small crouched form in front of him who, he noticed now, was shivering despite his banana yellow far-too-big jacket covering him from shoulders to just above his knees.

"What are they-, they like?" The boy replied with a soft sniffle while wiping stubbornly at his tear and snot smeared face. A wet, slightly greenish spot had already formed on the hem of his virulent jacket.

Sparkling hazel eyes gazed into his soul waiting for his answer, hanging onto every word his lips formed. Shaking himself out of his trance he focused on wrapping his uncooperative, heavy tongue around the sounds it should have been making turning slightly red in the process.

"What are you doing?"

Now that the boy had crept closer to him he could see that he was about the same age as him, maybe a bit younger and smaller in height, and that he had been crying for a while now as was evident by the smooth sheen of his eyelashes and the flushed redness of his cheeks.

Looking downwards he saw the edges of the boy's eyes crinkling before his eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks when he began laughing hysterically, tears forgotten. Hearty chuckles rang from his wide open mouth like bells on Christmas.

The dying sun's rays caught on the small beads of moistures still caught between his long lashes and Stiles noticed just how pretty this kid standing before him, still clutching his stomach from laughter, was.

_Promise me to always help those in need, okay Stiles? When-, when Mommy goes to that far away place beyond the sky and stars, promise me that you will be a strong boy and that you will always look around you when stepping forward. Mommy will be watching you, silently protecting you even if you can't see me up there, alright?_

Stiles blinked away the familiar stab of wetness and pain and batted at the still laughing brat in front of him.

"Hey, why are you laughing. No laughing at me!"

He stuck out his foot and struck an indignant pose crossing his arms over his small chest. The kid opposite him stopped his laughing fit abruptly for a moment to direct his gaze skywards and the happy aura that had surrounded him seconds ago vanished into thin air as quickly as it had come into being.

Stiles didn't know what to do and flailed his thin arms around while trying not to trip over air in his attempts to hurriedly pat the brunette's head in wordless comfort. A few heartbeats passed and he deemed it safe to speak up loud again.

"Hey, hey little guy, what's up? I didn't actually mean that before. You're welcome to laugh as much as you want. I like your laugh."

To accentuate his statement Stiles pulled a few weird faces he had made for his Mom too when she was down. _A while ago._

Nipping the toxic thought in its bud Stiles took another step towards the boy while lowering his head and reached out to press the boy's head to his collarbone softly stroking the nape of his neck while murmuring comforting nothings into his ears.

"Do you think that they're really up there?"

"Who? That who is where?"

"In heaven I mean. Laura told me they went there after they..- and I..."

Stiles saw a single tear running down the boy's porcelain cheeks after delicately slipping from the corner of his eye. One tear which he knew from experience had been one of many. _Far too many to count, but still without an end in sight._

He sighed, but continued in his endeavor of comforting the smaller boy with warm little gestures.

"My Mum. She's up there too, ya'know? Dad says she's watching over me from up there..."

Stiles turned his head upwards to search for his mother's face somewhere among the multitude of clouds that were tinted red and gold by the now ending day.

"My-, my parents, Mommy and Dad. They went there too."

"They did? I bet they've met my Mom there. She's really cool, I bet she's made them her special cookies."

"You think so?"

"Yup, it's far better to have cookies and hot chocolate on the clouds than being some ghost on earth here. I wouldn't wanna clean those clouds though. I wonder how they feel like..."

Little Stiles twisted his mouth to one side and stuck his tongue out thinking about the weird things that were clouds, oblivious to his surroundings.

All of a sudden the little boy he still held buried between his arms and the fabric of his dark coat started sniggering again.

"You're funny"

The brunette said with a smile in his words reaching up to pet the back of Stile's neck awkwardly due to their noticeable height difference.

Stiles used his coat sleeves to dry the fresh tears off the boy's face and opened his mouth to respond when a loud shout cut through his muddled thoughts.

"-k, where are you?!"

A female voice called frantically and the correspondent figure slowly entered Stiles' field of vision. When her eyes landed on them still tangled together Stiles blushed to the tip of his ears and sprung away from the brunette that seemed at a bit of a loss at what to do or say.

The woman let out a huge breath and she visibly sunk into herself when she approached them.

"Finally! Oh _God_ , why did you-, you could have gotten hurt! Promise me not to run off like this again, okay? _Promise_ me..."

The woman knelt down beside them to take the kid into her arms pressing her head to the side of his face with closed eyes.

Low sobs escaped her shivering form while she buried her face among the many folds of his jacket.

"You really scared me, you know? I can't lose you too..."

After a few heavy seconds the woman who had the same vibrant features as the little boy opened her strikingly green eyes and seemed to have only just noticed Stiles.

Baffled her mouth opened and closed a few times while she gesticulated with her hands before finally decided upon a simple question.

"Who... are you?"

"Oh, uhm me? I am just, I mean I was here because I am...-"

"A friend", the smaller brunette answered, "He's a friend I just made, Laura."

"Oh, okay then.", the woman who was apparently called Laura replied with a hesitant, yet still radiant and friendly smile, "Thanks for taking care of our little guy here."

She smiled warmly before standing back up and holding her hand out for the boy to take. That family had nice smiles, Stiles couldn't help but think.

"I think it's time for us to go home, don't you think? Say goodbye to your little friend, won't you?"

"O-okay"

The brunette turned to a surprised Stiles and promptly gave him another hug with a low whispered bye. Before he could grasp Laura's hand Stiles kept him back with a hand on an edge of the boy's jacket.

"Uhm, m-my name is Stiles, wh-what's yours?"

He half-shouted half-stuttered into the small space separating them and then looked expectantly at his opposite who had a slightly dumbstruck expression on his small, now much more happy face.

Laura smiled gently before nudging him into Stiles direction with some encouraging gestures.

"I-I'm D-Derek and uhm- let's meet here again tomorrow, Stiles!"

Derek quickly turned and grasped Laura's hand before dragging her off the small space of the now empty park. The old clock ticked its merry rhythm towards seven o'clock.

Dawn had already fallen and passed.

The night sky was already lightened up by thousands of twinkling and glittering stars. The cold breeze harshly swept past Stiles' flushed rosy cheeks.

His curfew had come and gone already, Stiles realized.

He was in for a world of pain when he finally went home. Of that he was sure.

 _Man_. 


	4. [II] Erica Side: Every Light has its Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? Another update in the same month? I must be hallucinating (^O^)
> 
> Well, hello again everyone!
> 
> I hope the new chapter will be a pleasant one to read! As always, I'd really appreciate any comments and pieces of advice for improvement and kudos you readers send my way.  
> It really lightens up my day and lifts my spirit so I can update more quickly (￣▽￣)
> 
> Until we meet again!  
> Wavyscribe out.

"Hey, looks like our little Miss vermin over there has the same ability as you, huh?", one of the obscure figures dressed in shadows remarks snidely and chuckles lightly. 

He knelt down and quietly observed his surroundings which were painted in rich hues of soft golden yellows and darkening reds for a few silent heartbeats.

  
Grayish clouds slowly and sluggishly traversed the rapidly darkening skies.

It was only a matter of minutes before the next wave of rain and thunder would come down over their heads and wash away any useful footprints. Their target had eluded them long enough already. It was time to stop playing and finish their business. Quickly.

He sent another glare down the bumpy landscape set against a background of weathered buildings and then relented. No matter how much he glared at the withered grass, nothing would be coming of it.

Finally, he huffed standing back up onto the heels of his heavy leather boots and brushed imaginary dirt off his camouflaged trousers. Seemingly disappointed, he turned his gaze upon the other man and shook his head, muscled shoulders swaying with the small motion.

"Be silent, Lance. You better focus on catching her if you know what's good for you." The other form answered without missing a beat before readying his firearm.

  
Then he continued, "I understand that I don't need to inform you of the fact that failure is not an option for us?"

Without leaving an opportunity for any retorts he turned and rushed off to scout the perimeter.

"Jeez, that old geezer, thinks he's... Ugh, better get back to work." For a short moment a dazzling, seemingly all-encompassing brilliant white flash appeared once more and in the blink of an eye the man had disappeared into the now remaining, lingering darkness. It was as if he had never been there in the first place.

Deathly silence returned to the disturbed, lifeless ruins of what once had been a prosperous kingdom inhabited by a colorful spectrum of souls, young and poor, rich and old.

Ashes faded back to ashes, dust remained dust. No sound was to be heard anymore from the plains of charred wood and burnt corpses.

The death cries of the land's former inhabitants had long since ebbed away with their worldly remains. The patch of earth itself wasted away, slowly and gradually, akin to the life it had once let flourish.

An exhausted lull settled over the worn scenery and it was as if there had never been any living beings breathing the ruin's air, no laughter reverberating through the wreckage of what once must have been a eden filled with blooming buds.

The idle wish of salvation had long since faded away.  
Only death remained in its wake.

 

~*~

 

_Regardless of however deeply black the night appears to be, there will always be another day to come.  
Regardless of how desperately the lone girl in the rain prays for the dawn not to break, morning will approach unrelentingly._

 

Another bright flash appeared behind her, lighting the entire silhouette of the bony townscape in ghostly colors of grey ash and cold crimson. This time it seemed a lot closer to where she was hiding.

Heavy breathing filled the moist air rushing past Erica in blurred stripes of whitish mist.  
Although she knew that running would do her about as much good as handing herself over to her pursuers directly, she couldn't see any immediate alternatives that would neither lead to her capture nor - in the worst case - her subsequent death, both of which were less than undesirable outcomes of her current predicament.

At least a she was now, she was still able to fight back. If she was to be a goner anyway, she was sure as all hell going to take one or two of them with her on her one-way trip to the underworld.

As the situation stood now, she had already lost her most valuable asset of surprise due to her own carelessness.  
Unfortunately, thus she held an even smaller opportunity of besting her capturers and escaping their search. While they now had a quite firm grasp of her capabilities, she only knew that one of them had an ability similar to her own, but couldn't pinpoint any weaknesses she was capable to exploit with her limited knowledge.

How was she supposed to outwit and incapacitate someone - _something_ \- she wasn't even able to _see_? 

A sudden thought struck her and she scrambled to change her course and veer away from a broad field of wasteland stretching out endlessly to her left. It couldn't have spelled sure death to her more than an unstable mine field.

She would've stood even _less_ of a chance defending against attacks without any means to hide herself in those endless plains. If she were to run into the open, it'd be like painting a big red cross onto her back for moving target practice.

The amount of buildings she passed still left standing by the merciless passage of time left and right was slowly increasing.  
Erica had to grasp for an advantage - _any_ advantage - that could turn the tides in her already one-sided fight.

  
Was she grasping for straws already?

There had to be something that could help her tip the scales in her favor, she just had to carefully observe and figure it out before her limited time - and the patience of her attackers - ran out.  
  
She wouldn't be able to outrun them. Not as she was now.

Frantically she searched the colorless, eerily crooked giants, mementos of a glorious past civilizations, for any sign of the approach of her pursuers, mindful of any and all sounds echoing off the empty skeletons of the weathering city.

Nothing was sacred anymore, not even the final resting place of the past.

Dirty hair fanning out behind her, she entered one of the infinite rows upon rows of abandoned houses. Hurrying up flight after flight of rotting stairs she finally settled against a wall next to a broken window. Pieces of chipped glass littered the floor beneath her feet and crunched too loudly with her every, however careful and quiet step and move.

She felt herself approaching her physical limit. The girl knew that she would not survive another encounter with the cloaked men.  
Erica had to finish it before it came to her having to face them directly and she had to do it fast. Before she passed out from sheer exhaustion and dehydration.

Cautiously, eager not to repeat her recent mistakes, she peered at a shard of broken mirror glass opposite of the window. It was still stubbornly clinging to ancient, charred remains of a vanity table.

The street in front of her row of dilapidated houses was clear. The dazzling bright sun, _was it nearing dusk already?_ , was steadily approaching a low dip on the horizon. Erica shielded her eyes against the brightness gleaming through the cracked window pane.

Ripping off a scrap off her already sparse attire she set to work. She had bought enough valuable time to set her traps. The only thing left was to hope that she didn't make another grave mistake in her judgement. One wrong step and all she was now might just crumble away to ash and dust.

Maybe today wasn't going to turn out too badly for her after all, considering that she was alive, breathing and as physically well as can be in the foreseeable future.

Sure, she was on the run from two crazed maniacs who probably much preferred her to not be alive, but who knows?  
Maybe it was also time she finally took the reins of destiny into her own hands and did more than clinging to bare survival.

At least once in her life she was going to be courageous and face forward.

Just like her mother had in her last moments.


	5. Prayer #0.1: Childhood's Idle Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N] I should probably mention that I think of young!Stiles as having been blond at first than getting a darker hair color with time. Now onto the second chapter of the prologue!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos would be a highlight of my day! 
> 
> ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

_Fall, year 2X04_

 

In the following month of fall break Stiles and Derek met each other almost everyday. Whenever they didn't go out together being up to no good they stayed in to watch Stiles' late mother's collection of old black and white movies.

In a short month they grew to be like each other's shadows, always following every step of the other never failing to stay connected through casual touching, a playful smack on the shoulder or a heartfelt hug when Derek was down due to being teased for his physique, and comforting words.

Even if they were still young in age they nevertheless saw the emptiness in each other's souls and the gap that was left by late loved ones.

And so, they spend every day of their still young life vibrant with high spirits and energy together forging a bond that was yet to be twisted and bent.

~*~

Stiles was, once again, bent over a small field of grass and clovers.

Every ten minutes or so he would right his tiny frame with a new discovery. Yet, every time he would sink back into his own little world having found a new objective in the patch of nature.

"W-when we grow up, if I get stronger and taller; so that I can protect you, can we... I mean, Laura told me... that is..."

Derek who had sat beside Stiles silent in his acknowledgement of his friend's work suddenly sprang into life inches apart from the latter's face.

Stiles almost let go of his current project - a wobbly looking structure made entirely out of grass, sticks and every other thing he had found on the narrow strip of vegetation next to the muddy river - in shock.

"Whoa, what is it, big guy?"

In just a few weeks Derek had caught up and surpassed Stiles in height. He was now looming over Stiles with a look of awe at the miracles Stiles had created in his hands. A determined, albeit still shy expression etched onto his cheeks and eyes he took a deep breath and continued.

"The thing is... Stiles."

A disturbingly unmanly squeak left Stiles mouth and he used his free dirt-stained hand to cover his offending body part in indignation over its disobedience.

That was _definitely_ not how he should have reacted. Derek just brought it out of him.

Fighting the blush that was creeping up over his already flushed neck Stiles centered himself and opened his mouth now decorated with pieces of stray grass to speak.

"Y- _yeah_ , I mean what is it?"

Derek looked into his eyes as if searching for an answer before continuing with an unusual oddly _low_ voice.

He seemed like he was going to tell Stiles some secret that no one had ever heard.

 _That no one had ever bothered to hear_ , a tiny voice in his head added and determination rose in his little heart too dominating any residual embarrassment. He once again steeled himself and nodded to signal Derek to continue.

 _Whatever_ it is he was getting himself into. Stiles wasn't known to use what intelligence he had. No, he really wasn't.

 _Especially_ concerning Derek.

 _Nope_ , said his short-circuiting brain, _not at all_.

"Why do people marry each other?"

Stiles, caught off-guard by Derek's question momentarily lost what little brain function he still had remaining and to his later mortification only gaped at Derek who was visibly reconsidering what he wanted to say.

Luckily, Stiles' brain was nice enough to spare him any more embarrassment for the day and returned the control of his mouth back to him.

"Uh-uhm... Marrying? I guess... My Mom married my Dad and your Mom married your Daddy, didn't she?"

He blinked in astonishment over the question and tipped his head to the side in confusion.

"I know that, but why did they? Marry each other?"

"I guess it's because of... Love? Yup, you marry people you like a whooole lot, like thiiis many at least."

Stiles gestured awkwardly with his thin arms to encircle what was a huge space in his mind, as if more focusing on convincing himself than Derek.

"Like how I like you?"

Derek asked in an almost inaudible voice.

"Yeah, just like... Wait what did you say...?" 

"I, uhm, like you? Even more than thaaat lot? I-I mean, m-my Mom told me that two people who like each other like a whole bunch," Derek waved his arms around as if to emphasize a point, then goes on enthusiastically, "well, they get rings and then they're married."

"You like me? Uhm, well. This is awkward..."

"You... Don't?"

Tears that glittered in the occasional stray light ray began to form in the corners of Derek's eyes and threatened to spill into his pale face.

Stiles smiled apologetically and smoothed down Derek's unruly hair, ruffling through his tangled strands in wordless affection.

"Of course I do, you big baby. It's decided then, we'll get married once we're adults, you an' me! Just like our parents!"

Stiles gushed and smiled his big bright dimply smile. Suddenly struck by an idea he jumped onto his feet and waddled towards another sunny patch of grass dotted with small daisy which had a delicate pink hue to the rims of their petal.

He began working with a deep frown on his forehead his tongue peeking out between his lips occasionally every once a while. Derek sat back down on the grass and watched Stiles throw up his hands in frustration at times.

Finally, as the last warm rays of sun had passed over their faces, Stiles stood up and cautiously carried a small crown and two delicate rings made from dozens of daisies to where D had remained seated to bathe in the late afternoon sun.

He placed the crown on top of Derek's head and then turned towards him with a serious expression on his face.

"I made this, so, here ya go! That's your bride thingie."

Stiles added with a smile gracing his lips when Derek stared at he crown in suspicion and reached for Derek's hand to slip the flower ring onto his left ring finger.

He then indicated Derek to do the same with the second one. The brunette blushed a faint reddish hue then grasped the flowers resting in Stiles' hands and delicately fit them around the other boy's finger.

"There, done!"

He exclaimed happily, but then a frown bled onto his still sun-warmed face.

"But we're missing something... Well, on TV they kiss, but that's kinda gross..."

Stiles trailed off when he saw the sad expression Derek's face had morphed into.

"Am I... gross?"

He asked with a shaky voice and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"No, you're not, I mean, ugh- you're not making it easy for a man, here."

Stiles took D's quivering face into his two hands, closed his eyes and planted a big wet kiss onto D's reddening left cheek.

"Tha' make ya happy now?"

Derek turned a darker shade of red and avoided looking into Stiles's eyes. He used one sleeve to sloppily wipe away the saliva the blond had left on his face and searched for a spot to stare at that was not Stiles' pretty face.

"I dunno..."

He said through a hazy daze and made to get up and leave when Stiles curled a hand around his thin wrist holding him back at arm's length.

"So. Where's mine?"

Stiles asked innocently and watched the blush visibly spread over Derek's neck and nape.

"Y-your what now?"

"My wedding kiss, what else can I mean?"

Stiles threw his hands up in frustration and bent his head slightly. He leaned forward pursing his lips for emphasis.

"Don't keep your hubbie waiting, Derrie."

Stiles winked cheekily and dove closer to Derek whose face now resembled a tomato more closely than a human being.

He let out a shuddering sigh and went to shyly peck Stiles' right cheek. Stiles who was obliviously of Derek's inner dilemma deemed the latter to having been sufficiently teased and made to turn his head away in order to stand back up.

However, Stiles turning his head for a better angle caused Derek's innocent peck to land dangerously near the corner of Stiles' mouth. _Much_ too close for comfort.

"I-I'm sorry, I, oh God. Please don't hate me. I didn't want to do that. I swear, I was just going to- Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod."

"Derek!", Stiles said alarmed, "Breath! C'mon, do it with me. In and out. In and out. That's a good boy."

Happily he patted Derek's head and smiled brightly. Derek for his part calmed down externally but was still at a loss of what to say.

Therefore he chose to do what he had always done.

He ripped himself from the warm pressure of Stiles' hand and ran as fast as he could the cries of Stiles behind him reaching his ears but not his mind.

That could have been the first time in recorded history someone - anyone - had out-rambled Stiles Stilinski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N] So~ the second part of the prologue which is really long by the way will be separated into two parts! 
> 
> *background cheering*
> 
> Don't forget to leave comments and kudos!
> 
> (*^◯^*)


	6. [II] Erica Side: As if by an invisible Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, everyone!
> 
> If you were wondering, I am surprised myself by, goodness gracious, regular updates!  
> I hope this chapter will provide you with a great time reading and as always, every comment as well as kudos are like food for the writer's soul.
> 
> Until next time!  
> ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
> 
> Wavyscribe out.

It was quite a feat for a mere _girl_ of such a slight stature like hers to have eluded him as often as she did, the Knight pondered silently.  
However, the man shrouded in darkness had decided, she was not going to have any more lucky last-second get-aways.

His cloak drifting about his ominous presence, the man wondered whether he had finally met another opponent worthy of his attention. Perhaps, the time had once again come for him to play seriously. Never had it been more to him than a _game_ , a means to counter the boredom of living; never had he perceived an opponent more than simply interest-arousing; never had he met anyone he considered an equal.

It had already been far too long since he had last felt this once familiar rush of anticipation for any of his targets. The thought alone caused excitement to flash scaldingly through his veins, coursing hotly through both his ears.

Flexing the joints of his left hand, he hid an involuntary grin, then set off to burn out her little wasp's nest. It was impossible for anything she had in wait for him to pose any serious threat to him. He expected no real danger, but what was a game without that certain suspense? Without the arousing element of surprise nagging at his almost forgotten sense of fear?

He rather wanted to see how long his new plaything would hold out before it inevitably succumbed to utter despair. The young ones nowadays were all bark, no bite, never lasting long enough. He sincerely hoped that the hunt this time would prove him wrong for once. The knowledge to have slipped up would've been nice for a change.

Regardless of the level of challenge the girl was going to pose, one thing was for sure: It had been a far too long time since he had last had so much _fun_. The target was not going to survive midnight at this rate.

The question was whether he could really bring himself to care.  
After all, all good things do come to an end rather quickly.

 

~*~

 

A cold shudder of terrible foreboding ran down Erica's back and she wrapped her thin arms tightly around her small frame in immediate reaction. Experiencing a small feeling of bemusing déjà-vu she hurriedly shifted in place.  
She was currently perched against the friable pillar in obvious discomfort, but who was she to complain? At least she had not been captured yet and she was not going to be as long as she had any say in the matter.

 

_An abandoned child. Crying, all by her lonesome self, into the unforgiving stormy night.  
The unyielding cold slowly permeated the frail body leaving a trail of much welcomed numbness in its wake._

_Time stopped._

 

Desperately Erica struggled to overcome the stream of sensations and old memory invading her mind, but her efforts were in vain. The soft ripples of once dormant regrets had resurfaced and were stirring up her entire ocean of perception.

Suddenly, the soft grating sound of boots against the uneven, stony ground shot through her like the burning-hot cracking of a whip. A wince ran down her spine and her bright irises dilated.

With a start Erica's mind returned to the present and she squinted around her hiding place, cautious to give away neither sound nor signs of movement to the enemy. She recognized the man striding confidently down the middle of the street filled with broken pieces of rubble instantly. After all, he had nothing to hide or fear, quite contrary to her. It would have been funny even, had her tears not run dry a long time ago.

She had to act fast now for her plan to succeed. It was now or never; with _now_ being a lot more preferable to the _never_.

Erica sent one last prayer to whomever may listen, hoping her luck had not yet run dry; for what she had planned she'd need every ounce of favor, serendipity or not. The difference would lie in the results.

When she gathered that she had composed herself sufficiently, she turned back to survey the suspiciously noise-less street. Fear struck her like cold iron.

The street was empty.

_Could he have noticed her presence already?_

It shouldn't have been too easy to pinpoint her exact location while uneven pieces of debris were shielding her from prying eyes. Her shallow breathing, almost inaudible to even the trained ear and stilled movements filled with the ease of constant exercise were unlikely to have betrayed her hiding place.

So _why_...?

For the umpteenth time the ragged blanket of dirty clouds lit up in bright, far too familiar specks of color. They were closing in on her, even though they may not yet know where she had holed up, there was no time to be lost before they finished their sweep of the parameter.  
Her plan had to fall into place before the light appeared next to her. By then even her ability was not going to save her from certain demise.

The smell of rotting fruit and fresh blood beckoned her to disappear behind what may have once been a well, made out of stone that was mossy and cool to the touch.

Not a second to soon. Leather boots caked with mud and rain stepped into existence a few feet to her left.

_Hold on, the smell...?_

A low chuckle filled the unmoving air. The heavy downpour had finally let off sometime ago.  
For one fear-filled second she thought that she had been found. However, he seemed to be turning in concentric circles. The gloomy form was certainly looking for a telling footprint or some other hint to her whereabouts.

He was not going to find any she had not already rid herself of without a tremendous amount of effort.

Luckily, she hadn't been born yesterday. If nothing else, her life on the run had taught her not to stand out at any time, in any manner possible. Staying inconspicuous had kept her alive and running up until now and that wasn't going to change, not even now that she is faced with seemingly unsurmountable odds.

"If running and hiding is everything you can do, should we just skip this sham of a fight? What do you say, little girl? Make my job easier and give up struggling. It didn't do your mother any good either, now did it?"

A cruel cackle indicated to Erica's sharpened instincts that he was mere steps away from uncovering her preparation. If he were to turn to his right now...

For a single sharp intake of breath, time seemed to have slowed down to a steady droning somewhere in the back of her mind.  
The air appeared to be crackling with electric tension the moment his eyes locked onto hers. It was now or never.

The man disappeared.

Now it was time for _her_ gambit.

If she didn't take the right course of action out of the many she had laid out beforehand, factoring in all the unknowns, in the next few decisive seconds, her turn will have been over before it even really began.  
There was no margin for error. She had to move. _Now_.

Suddenly she felt a cold pressure radiating from the center of her forehead. Was it over already? She turned around so fast whiplash made her head swim, but her worries, for once, were baseless.

Delicate snow flowers had begun descending from the unsmiling sky. Wave upon wave, sea upon sea of heavenly crystals sailed to the earth like feathers, some melting on her flushed skin.

However, there was one place they could not reach, one place that _banished_ their very existence.

_Checkmate_.

His ability wasn't teleportation, she realized. Erica had just managed to grasp a small strain of possibility. No matter how feeble, the promise of survival heated her face and stopped her anxious shivering.

The very second ice blossoms halted their dance before her eyes momentarily, she acted.  
Like the lightning coursing through her arms and feet Erica reached behind herself for a certain protruding iron pipe she had wedged into the supporting pillar in preparation. Due to their respective positioning the critical expanse of the brittle column was currently obscured by her back.

She didn't need long to experience the same exhausting, but familiar pull yet again. Images bled into her mind in far too quick succession. The last moments of her very own pillar, the dying city, a spark of light and hope; and then, in the next blink of an eye, she was gone, swept away by old wounds re-opening deep inside her heart.

She looked to the far distance where a cloud of dust and ash rose to the soft trickling of snow and rain.  
Averting her gaze, she sunk onto her quivering knees, boneless and let the iron rod still clutched in her numb hand fall to the ground beside her. A hollow » _clonk!_ « echoed throughout the empty street.

Her breath formed temporary clouds, while she panted heavily, lungs desperate for much needed oxygen. She hadn't realized that she'd been holding her breath the entire time.  
A single thought filled her mind before she made to get up and keep moving to put her little victory to good use.

  
One down, _one more left to go._


	7. Prayer #0.2: Dreams of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N] Sorry for the delay! Here another mini-chapter!

_The times we spent together_

_Under the long since gone branches of that oaken tree_

_We reminisce about our long past childhood_

_“What is love...? “_ _you ask with your unblemished innocence_

_But I couldn't find an answer to your_

_Simple yet difficult question_

 

_In a flash time flies by like that_

_And we find ourselves in the grey and monotone world of adulthood_

_Has our path together ended in a fork?_

_I don't know why your smile warms my heart_

_Nor do I know why it's difficult to breath the same air as you_

_The only thing I do know though_

_For sure Is that I want to be with you_

_Is that too much to ask?_

 

_I remember you saying those words on that day_

_Once upon a time when we were children_

_I never figured out the answer to your question_

_If I think about it I still don't know_

_“What is love...?” you ask me with your blue eyes wide open_

_However I will always know one thing for certain_

_Because I will never forget those summer days spent with you_

_Because my heart will always be a home to you_

 

_Entering old age our lives are now far slower_

_Nearing the imminent finale of life_

_Not living in the moment anymore_

_Rather standing amongst past memories and mistakes_

_Though the light of my eyes has left me_

_I can still see the perfect blue in your orbs of life_

_Though my skin has withered and is slowly turning to dust_

_I can still feel the warmth seeping from your hands_

_Though my muscles are tired and sore_

_I can still find the strength to hold you in my embrace_

_Do you still remember your question, once so pure?_

_“What is love...?” you said to me_

_Leaving me breathless and with a heart_

_Threatening to pound out of my chest_

_But I still don't know the answer to your question_

_So we continue on with our life full of uncertainty and surprise_

 

_Sitting at your white white bed in_

_The pristine room I hold your hand, but my eyes are dry_

_You mumble something under your breath_

_But I still don't understand_

_Your last smile fills my old and frail body with new light and warmth_

_Then your existence finally leaves this world_

_Like a candle without heat_

_You went with laughter on your lips_

_But I still don't understand why_

 

_Sitting on our sofa - now that it's mine -_

_I feel odd and strangely cold_

_I reach out with my left but I cannot feel your right_

_Something wet begins to soak my cheek_

_But I still don't know_

_What you have been saying all these years_

_What was it?_

_I remember you asking that question_

_That question that changed our predestined path_

_But I can't remember your words_

_My frail mind is too tired_

 

_Lying down I imagine your last peaceful smile_

_Then my world shatters into tiny shards of rainbow_

_As memory slowly settles in_

_I know now_

_“What is love...?” you kept asking me_

_Without knowing what it really is_

_I find myself falling for you_

_Neither girl nor boy, so full of faults and flaws_

_And yet I feel my heart swelling with your presence_

_These feelings - unbeknownst to me - begin taking over my mind_

_A single tear trickles down my face_

_And leaves the cold reflection_

_Of what is left of you_

_As I imagine your petite frame_

_I finally know what you were saying till your last breath_

_What the reason was for your smile of pure happiness_

_Together with you_

_Joined in life and in death_

_I say those three little words_

_Which once, unbeknownst to me,_

_I had felt, like a storm_

 

_Sending a prayer to you with my_

_Soul that's reaching out to you_

 

_I._

_Love._

_You._

 

_forever_

_and_

_in eternity_

 

_Your loving [...]_

 

**[From the memories of a certain individual, lost in time and space]**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N] Once again, if you like my writing please leave kudos and comments (we writers live off of them (｡^_^｡))!!  
> If you do, my updates would be far more regular and consistent.  
> You know what they say: "Comments are the soul of wit." Well, that's my version (⌒▽⌒)...
> 
> Alas, our time is up, I've gotta go back into my corner.
> 
> Until next chapter!


	8. Prayer [III] - Stiles Side: Initiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I blame my sudden spurt of inspiration on the end of my exams for the time being.
> 
> Nevertheless, I'd really appreciate some comments and kudos so I can keep my writing up to standards! Any and all suggestions of what you'd like to see in the future or what you like/dislike about my style of writing are welcome!
> 
> Lots of fun reading!  
> o(^▽^)o
> 
> PS: Anyone else noticing the slowly increasing chapter sizes lately?  
> (・ω・)ノ
> 
> Wavyscribe out.

Spring, year 2X16

"Hey!"

A low yell and subsequent heavy weight suddenly whipped him away from the depth of his pleasantly dreamless slumber. A wisp of a half-forgotten dream clutched stubbornly at the edge of Stiles' mind, as if in a last futile protest, before slipping away entirely. He awoke with a sigh and rapidly blossoming waves of pain radiating from the vicinity pf his chest. Stiles wasn't exactly what you'd call a morning person. Rather than that, he'd always thought for as long as he could remember that people who did were just trying too hard or just simply strange freaks of nature.

He barely suppressed another sigh which was slowly morphing into an extended, tired yawn and rubbed the last bits of sleep from his still more than drooping eyes.

For him, nothing beat stretching out in bed after a long nap. Unfortunately something, or rather a certain _someone_ , was stubbornly preventing him from doing so. _Hmm_.

 

"I'll pretend you didn't just say that. Also, Stiles" The human weight started, his tone unpleasantly similar to one you might hear when reprimanding a particularly slow-witted child. He shifted around for a few more tantalizing seconds before he slipped halfways to the side off Stiles' body. "2 pm isn't what most people define as anywhere near ' _early_ '. You're just particularly lazy, you know that? Like always. Well, I'm glad to see you're still you at least. Although it'd be kinda a stretch to call ya healthy."

  
The bothersome human-shaped object sniggered slightly and continued to perch comfortably on its new spot on top of Stiles' painfully heaving lungs. His indignant death-glare either went over the other boy's head entirely or had just lost its intended effect due to overuse. Just let anyone say he wasn't living with enough thrill in his everyday life. Scott was more than enough of a public menace to be on par with with anything else Stiles had thrown at him in the last month.

As such he currently had a lot more to worry about than his, at best non-existent, brain-to-mouth filter. Namely, his much desired continued good health.

 

" _Ugh_ -, okay, I get it already. I'm 'wake! I'll- * _wheez_ * I'll get up, just don't try to murder me in my sleep again, Scott."

 

Stiles spluttered as reproachfully and dignified as anyone could have if faced with a similar situation of just barely evaded death. "Smothered to death by best friend's rear end" didn't make for as good a grave stone inscription as you may think. He attempted to wiggle his way out from under his best friend's behind while angrily swatting any part of Scott's he could reach. He strongly hoped that those included some particularly _painful_ areas.

Occasionally and more times than he would've like the boy took his breath away, in the truest sense of the word. Even if he neither wanted nor needed the daily doses of trauma provided by his, sad to say, best friend. It's almost like he has bad taste in friends he chose to make. But, he had to admit to himself, he'd rather have his life be whatever it is now than any other way really.

But Scott's small victory dance was not going to last for any longer. Stiles would make sure of it.

After what seemed like an oxygen-deprived eternity, Scott finally gave a small, somehow indignant » _harrumph_ « and let himself be rolled off from where he had been half-sitting sprawled across Stiles' chest. Shifting gingerly off the small mattress of Stiles' bed he finally settled on the carpeted floor and leant back against the cold metal frame of their narrow bunk bed.

Scott silently crossed his arms after a second of silent contemplation and resigned himself to staring out of their lone window onto the fair blue sky. Betimes, the almost endlessly bright aquamarine was dis rioted by a few pieces of stray greenery or the occasional high tower of the old castle. The yellowish brown of the weathered sandstone reflected the light of the sky and sparkled lazily in the burning mid-day sun.

They were currently in the west wing of the annex, a rather new addition to the main building due to the increasing number of students every year.  
Today was a rather special day for them and every other first-year, but knowing Stiles he had nonetheless somehow managed to forget the sheer  _importance_ of the one-time only event.

Scott's gaze lost itself for a short moment among the brilliant white clouds and the glittering sun rays illuminating the crystal clear sky.  
All of a sudden, an untidy mop of tousled brown bed-hair popped up mere inches before his eyes, obscuring his view of the calming blue lull. His pupils strained to narrow in on the boy smiling his merry dimpled smile closely in front of him.

He loosened the tight knot of his arms and reached out to brush a few stray strands of wild, indomitable hair aside to reveal Stiles' lop-sided grin. A few more adjustments and he leant back to take in his completed masterpiece.  
Finally satisfied that any more effort would result in nothing any more appropriate, he sighed letting his hands fall to his side and returned his gaze to the high window.

 

"So?"

"Never heard of private space or respectful distance, have you Stiles?" Scott asked, grin still etched into his openly happy face.

Stiles screwed his nose up for a few seconds at the accusation but then shrugged in the slightly awkward full body manner unique to him and continued unperturbed.

"So, why did you suddenly decide to grace me with your butt on my innocently sleeping person this wonderful not-morning?"

Stiles questioned reaching up with his right hand to hold his chin in what was probably supposed to resemble a profoundly pensive manner.

"Also, cut back on the dessert from now on, okay? I think you cracked some of my rips. _Ow_."

As if to accentuate his point Stiles started rubbing his thumb in small circles over a particularly painful area.

Scott, unimpressed by his friend's usual antiques, continued to stare out of the window resolutely, artfull straight face betraying none of his thoughts. Some degree of irritation did manage to seep out through the cracks of his mask though.

" _C'mon_ , the least you can do after manhandling me into next week is to tell me! Is it something I did? Dude, you _know_ that I can't be held accountable to anything when I'm hungry, tired or bored." Stiles tried with a pout, but Scott remained unimpressed.

"Well, if you're not telling I'm going back to sleep. Some of us actually have respectable things to do."

Despite his irritation a snort managed to slip free of Scott's locked lips and he shook his head, but continued his taciturnity.

After a beat or two he finally relented with a disappointed sigh.

"Just for the record, Stiles, and because you apparently didn't get the memo. What day is today?," Scott offered wryly in reply, "By the way, your kicked-puppy shtick has long stopped working on me, so why try?"

"Well, it got you to talk, didn't it?"

  
Stiles smiled again revealing two lines of pearly white teeth. Another moment passed between the two boys and Stiles's forehead bEgan to frown in concentration.

 

"Uhh-, _well_ , today's not your birthday or else I would've probably woken up to an octopus on my face or something."

"No kidding, Sherlock."

 

Stiles gave him a withering look and Scott's grin grew slightly.

His idle gaze roamed their dormitory slowly brushing up against several random objects strewn about haphazardly in the tiny room.

Then his face cleared and his furrowed brows relaxed into an easy, yet nondescript expression. Scott snorted in exasperation and turned to face Stiles.

 

"Did you finally remember?"

"Uhm, you got class duty because you skipped class and want me to help?"

"You're asking me, when you've been sleeping 'till 2 pm?"

"Touché, then... Is it your parent's anniversary?"

"Why would I discuss that with you, of all things?"

"Point taken."

"So?"

"So."

"Well, do you or don't you remember?"

Stiles leant towards the side of Scott's head that was closer to him conspiratorially and made to whisper into his ear, hands reaching up to help funnel the sound of his voice.

 

"I," He began with a low rumble deep in his throat stopping briefly for suspense, "have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Thought so."

"Why didn't you deliver me from this highly  _unusual_ and _utterly_ cruel punishment of guessing sooner then?"

"Cuz' it was loads funnier this way."

Scott hopped to his feet in a fluid motion lifting his arms behind his arms in the process. He turned towards the door making to reach the brass knob with his right hand.

Stiles hastily sprang to his feet too and hurried to grasp a small corner of the fabric of Scott's shirt, holding him in place and preventing his premature escape.

" _Oi_ , Scott _Theodore_ McCall don't you leave before you've finished what you've started!"

As soon as Stiles was certain that his friend was not going to abandon him and flee the room again, he let go of the stretched cloth between his fingers.

"You do realize that that's not my actual middle name, right?"

Brushing his friend aside wordlessly he wandered to his desk and sat down gingerly on his squeaky revolving chair, mindful of his general chest area that was still pulsing hotly with dull pain.

"Oh, please _enlighten_ me, your _unworthy_ friend, of what grave sin I have committed."

Stiles made to touch the back of his hand dramatically to his forehead, but then stopped when he heard not quite suppressed laughter ringing from the opposite corner of the room.

"What an absolutely _great_ friend you are, laughing about the obvious distress of yours truly."

Scott was holding his stomach now, a sudden full-blown laugh rippling through his body. Nevertheless he made a valiant attempt to form intelligible words into the vague direction of the other boy.

"I-I can't-"

"It wasn't even that funny, dude. Stop laughing. It's annoying."

"B-but look into the mirror...-"

In obvious wonder Stiles turned to the silvery mirror pane of their wardrobe and reeled back in surprise. He had to do a double-take from what he saw reflected in the dull glass that was cracked around the edges.

Apparently, he now resembled a _donkey_ far more than he would've liked. Two bushy ears covered in grayish brown fur extended over his head.  
He reached up to touch them in disbelief and was shocked to feel the expected rough slide of them through his hands. As if mocking him, they immediately straightened and stood to attention like tiny soldiers.

Oh, _hell_ no. _Not again_.

Suddenly, the wooden door to their dormitory swung wide open to reveal a smirking woman who had stemmed both her hands against her hips, lips curling up slightly in gloating joy.

 

"That should teach you to forget about the _Contraction Ceremony_ again. Not that you're getting another chance anyway."

"Professor _Hale_!" Scott didn't even have the decency to sound surprised. Stiles, now absolutely certain that Scott was in cahoots with her, that absolute _assbutt_ of an  _traitor_ , only huffed dejectedly.

He had just enough presence of mind to mutter a low "damn" under his breath before he turned his attention to the source of the ill-boding voice.

"Mrs. Hale!" He echoed in a manner of greeting, surprise tinged with only a small dip of anxious terror, but the teacher in question had already turned her back to the two of them, leaving them to hastily scramble in her wake.

"Hurry up or you'll be late. _Again_." She said before turning a corner into what Stiles realized a second later was a supply closet.

The woman herself had vanished already leaving behind only a vague sense of discomfort and a flowery scent of immanent doom.

"We wouldn't want that, now do we?" was the only thing telling of her prior presence reverberating throughout the narrow hallway framed by lithic walls and occasional torches.

The two remaining boys outside the empty store room looked at each other and then broke into a mad dash to reach the assembly hall.

One did not _ever_ keep Laura Hale waiting, were one someone to hold their life dear.


	9. [III] Stiles Side: Dark Sidhe of the Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello World! ( うω • `) 
> 
> I didn't just work on this until after 3 am... *yawn* nope, not at all!  
> As always: enjoy reading and leave some comments and kudos for a poor stessed-out author, will ya? (´･_･`)  
> They're like food to us and keep our writing pleasurable to the readers!
> 
> Until next time!  
> Wavyscribe out.

_Spring, year 2X16_

 

Through his peripheral vision Stiles was conscious of scarcely lit hallways and enchanted suits of gleaming, awe-inspiring armor rushing by them on their mad dash down the tower to the grand hall of the castle.

Several tall figures, each radiating a similar cool ghostly glow, stood locked to eternal attention in seemingly never-ending rows continuing to their far left and right, metal gloves politely folded over the leather-wrapped hilt of their respective weapons of choice.  
Stiles thought to spy several sharp looking swords as well as axes and spiked maces among the display of gleaming blades and pronged iron.

He realized with a cold shudder that he most _definitely_ wouldn't have liked to find himself in what seemed like a hallway full of medieval torture at night without another soul to offer some kind of protection. At least on an emotional level, that is. Stiles isn't a wuss, despite what most of his friends may say, he was very much able to take care of himself, thank you very much.

Nonetheless, on another day Stiles might have stopped here and there taking a moment to admire the artfully enchanted plates of shimmering metal and lethal articles of weaponry or to bid them a good day doing whatever mysterious thing they were up to during the brighter half of the day when the students were restricted to the cramped confines of their classrooms.

The colorful silhouettes of two figures rushing down the hallway elicited a kaleidoscope of ghostly reflections on the brightly-polished metal.  
A sudden bright glint, maybe nothing more even than a trick of the eye, caught Stiles' attention and he slowed down to a brisk walk casting a suspicious look over his shoulder. Something had flashed in his field of vision for maybe nothing more than a fleeting second but he was sure it wasn't just a flicker of light. Something from somewhere deep in his subconscious coerced him to stay and observe.

Scott who had been following wordlessly at his heels bumped into him with a soft thud not a moment later. Surprised by his abrupt halt he grimaced while rubbing a sore spot on his reddening forehead where he'd bumped painfully into Stiles' - far too _bony_ , mind you - shoulder.

"What did you-" Scott began lifting both his arms in exasperated irritation. He directed his gaze upwards to find his friend frozen in place, eyes mapping out something behind his back, mouth hanging slightly open with what might be an expression of marvel, wonder and stern concentration.

Stiles, momentarily drawn back into reality from his inner thoughts by Scott's familiar voice, shook his head silently at him and indicated a spot covered by dancing shadows behind them with a quiet nod of his head.  
The other boy, not liking the expression he saw reflected in the brunette's eyes, sobered up quickly and whipped his head around to get a better look at what had seemed to have enraptured Stiles' full attention, a feat that was as impossible as getting him to sit down still in a chair, most of the time.

The amber-eyed, normally always a mess of jiggling, too long limbs, exuded an unnatural amount of calm as if the person standing behind him, intelligent irises sweeping the perimeter, searching for something beyond what he could see was not the one he had known for the biggest chunk of their lives.  
Scott felt some kind of persistently lingering uneasiness slowly creeping into his chest turning his veins cold with heavy anxiety in its wake.

"What is-"

Once again a quick series of shushing noises cut through his unfinished question. The thick tension in the air crackled like electricity, and then Scott finally began to see what Stiles had been staring at so fervently.

At first he had thought of the dark spot as inter-mingling shadows cast by the long velvety curtains on either side of the big window arch. It showed a muddy piece of sky that had long since lost its pristinely blue sheen to all-consuming dark greyish clouds hanging heavy with their promise of rain and lightning.

On even closer inspection he could feel with his entire being rather than see that a writhing black mass had formed on the stony ground a few armlengths in front of them. The quivering blob of darkness continued to shift and grow until it had spread out far enough to latch onto the glossy surface of a suit of metal plates. It left ugly stains and patches wherever its tar-like body sploshed onto. Wisps of sickly black detached from its main body and adhered to everything within a small radius of them.

Scott feared that it was becoming increasingly dangerous for them to be staying around it any longer than absolutely necessary.  
A growing network of quickly thickening murky strands was already beginning to spread out over entire the floor, slowly at first, its tiny extension - _arms_ \- searching for purchase on the walls, the curtains, the ground, everywhere. After a few moments it seemed to have gained confidence in finally finding what it had been looking for.

Tearing himself away from the terror-stricken trance induced by the bizarre spectacle of the foreign creature, Scott made to tug firmly on his friend's sleeve, a foreboding sensation clawing incessantly and adamantly at the walls of his consciousness.

"Um... I think- I really think we should be leaving here, Stiles... Go find an instructor or something. I won't even complain about Mrs. Hale if she was just here, preferably before that thing there decides there are tastier things to eat than old scrap metal. And I _definitely_  wouldn't want that to be us."

With a look of odd petrification frozen on his face the brunette in question did not move or even breathe for what felt like hours having entirely missed Scott's small outburst of, very much justified panic.  
With every inch that the creature seemed to expand in size and radius, therefore reducing their chance of successful escape, Scott could feel his heart beating closer and closer to absolute and bone-chilling terror.

" _Stiles_! Snap out of it, come on, dude! Now's not the right time to stare if you don't want us to end up as a brunch snack for that thing. I don't want to be remembered as the one who was killed by the overwhelming idiocy of his best friend... _Damn_ it, Stiles!"

He half contemplated bodily hauling Stiles away due to the brunette's apparent lack of an instinct of self-preservation and his of another viable alternative, but settled on firmly shaking his friend using his death-grip on his narrow and bony shoulders.

"Get a grip, Stiles! Heck, if I die today because of-. I swear to God, I'm going to find you and absolutely  _end_ you with my bare hands and teeth if I need to in our next lives, Stilinski!"

The creature had now engulfed most of the once silvery surface in wobbling viscous fluid, the metal's former gloss only a sad memory of its current state. Two unsettling crimson orbs hovered silently behind the narrow vertical slits of the visor and Scott cursed his fate of being stuck with today's apparently even more  _batshit_ _crazy_  than normal version of his soon-to-be ex best friend when the armor began moving, beady red eyes focussed on their shocked faces.

At least one couldn't say that he'd died some generic death surrounded by the loving wife and 1.7 kids - maybe even a few grandchildren if he was particularly lucky - he always thought he was going to have one day. Sadly they now seemed to be forever out of his grasp. Instead he'll end up as the rather unwilling amuse bouche of the evil blob of he-doesn't-even-want-to-know-what possessed suit of armor nearing them with a rapid speed.

It's not like anyone ever bothered to ask him which one _he'd_ prefer.

What a way to die indeed.

A stricken expression etched onto his features, Scott's gazed swept from the similarly frozen gaze mirrored on his  _hopeless_ friend's face over to the approaching silhouette of the dark knight.

Without taking his eyes off of what was probably their imminent death his uncomfortably dry lips slipped open and he traced them with his tongue.

 

"Stiles?"

 

Just as he had expected there was no answer, not even a sigh of despair or a shocked gasp, to be heard from the brunette at his side. Not that he was even expecting one by now.

Undeterred, he wetted his lips once more and uttered what felt like his last words on earth.

 

"I think I just peed myself a little."


	10. [III] Stiles Side: Castles In The Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> I'm finally back with another chapter (this one's extra long for my standards even ^_^) and we'll finally be seeing some of the main plot (after ten chapters of introduction, hehe (ｰ ｰ;))!
> 
> I hope you can all enjoy this chapter and hopefully leave some kudos and comments 'cuz they're an author's best friends!
> 
> Until next time!  
> Wavyscribe out.

_Spring, year 2X16_

 

_Darkness is where it all began, darkness is where everything will return to after drawing its final breath. After all, what is life but a sweetly deceptive illusion? Death is patient and all-knowing where life promises the fleeting prospect of lasting happiness._

_Wise men speak of there being no darkness without light; nothing hidden without anything standing in plain sight. But humans often forget that the ancient chaos, older than time itself, originates from far prior to the creation of beings hailing from the first primeval rays of light._

_Chaos is what once was and chaos is what is to come._

 

~*~

 

A single powerful shot tore through the silent air. After a heartbeat several tousands followed in its wake. The sharp sounds rang out into every nook and cranny of the majestic fortress standing beneath the burning sun and azure blue sky. Piercing shouts permeated the heavy and loaded air laced with the promise of agony soon after.

Tanks, armored cars and other machines of terror and war painted a picture of horror all throughout the narrow elevated high plateau. What had once proven to be a strategical advantage to the fortress, now seemed to summon the downfall of the ancient giant all the faster.

"We can't damage them! The old-types are no match for the fortified Ares models; someone, call the General! We need him on the field! Now!"

The exchange of gun powder continued. With every delayed response the attackers gained land on the quivering fortress.

A sudden explosion echoing through the air from the direction of the castle caught the attention of the numbered remaining soldiers which were struggling to defend their base. A man dressed in shades of imposing vermillion and golden cloth, billowing to his sides in a soft breeze, stood on the vanguard of an advancing line of tanks. The unwavering silhouette, blackened against the setting sun, raised a single hand and the soldiers fell into immediate silence.  
However, before the man could attempt to open his mouth in order to adress the rest of his soldiers, one of the armored machines which had been whittling away at the fortress's last line of defence split from their formation and fired, all in a fluid flash of movement.  
A screen of dry dust and heavy dirt whirled up to shroud the newcomers in an ominous dark cloud.

" _No_ , the commander...! We have to...-"

The soldier never finished his sentence.

In the following memorable hours to be put down in future history books the ensuing squirmish was to be decided.

The "Three hours to decide the course of the world".

 

~*|*~

 

"Where... Am I?"

Darkness was the first thing flooding Stiles's senses when he came to, mind sluggish with a pounding ache as if he'd been repeatedly dragged through mud. A clammy, metallic taste - blood? - clung unpleasantly to his dry tongue and cracked lips. Stiles swallowed hard, pushing back the rising bile and panic to a low simmer deep in his guts.

The next thing he realized was that he couldn't breathe. He was certain that his lungs were working hard, straining for much-needed oxygen, yet his body told him the exact opposite.  
Finally cracking open one amber-coloured eye, Stiles' out of focus gaze was met by a dark mass, both of a wobbling jelly-like consistency and wispy thin silky quality, slowly surrounding his entire body.

Realization hit him like a sledgehammer did an anvil.

Thoughts racing for the limelight in the chaos that was his brain, panic bubbling over the rim into the already jittery nerves of his arms and legs, Stiles was only able to utter a single word before the dark purple smoke had solidified around his head.

His luck had finally run dry.

As he was pulled into a rather unwelcomingly cold spot deep under the lake of unconsciousness, his limbs lashed and thrashed out left and right chaotically. In the throes of what seemed like his imminent death, a soft voice sighed into his ear like a breeze through thickets of leaves. An ethereal smile seemed to be playing on the bodyless voice's lips.

"Finally. Found. You."

" _Crap_."

Today really wasn't his day, now was it?

 

~*~

 

"Stiles. Come. _On_. Stiles! Get a grip! We're under attack! What's with you and fainting at the most important times?"

A moment passed and Stiles awoke suddenly, eyes opening so wide it almost hurt, hands flying upwards to check his face for any major injuries.  
His breath came in laboured huffs as if he had just broken through the surface of an icy lake.

It took him a few more seconds, dumbfounded expression undoubtedly etched onto his face, to match the disembodied voice to the blurred face his unfocused eyes struggled to make out in the dim light.

"We need to find Laur-, I mean Instructor _Hale_. As soon as possible. And before you ask, I don't have the _foggiest_ what's actually going on."

Stiles, in his usual display of eloquent genius, opened and closed his mouth a few times, gears slowly rattling in his head. Then suddenly his face cleared leaving only an expression of stubborn determination behind.

"How long was I out?"

The dark-haired boy turned to him in surprise but seemed to calm himself enough to reply after a few deep breaths.  
He chanced a look at Scott who had been kneeling beside Stiles in concern when he'd arrived, but was now at the corner of the corridor checking for any possibly immediate, incoming enemies.

The boy was easily spooked, but if it was for people he cared for he'd made up for his lack of brawns more than once with a lot of unexpected brains. He was strikingly similar to Stiles in that regard. A grin inched onto the dark-haired's face.

"I'd say about ten minutes. No more than fifteen at most. When I found you, Scott was beating the shade into submission with that broomstick." He pointed to a broken pile of sorry wood splinters. Then his smile turned slightly sinister. "Don't worry, I took _good_ care of it. It's gone now. And I bet it won't return anytime soon. If it knows what's good for it, at least."

Without wasting anymore precious minutes Stiles shifted into a sitting position, then stood up with unusual grace in his movements. He brushed off the dirt and dust clinging to the legs of his worn trousers, then turned to speak to the two boys watching him silently.

"Scott and I just saw her. Instructor La...- _uhm_ , _Hale_ that is. As far as we know, she should've been heading to the main hall where the Contraction ceremony is scheduled at today. That's where she's likely to still be. We've got no time to spare. Who knows what'll happen if we don't find her. _Fast_."

As if to emphasize his words another powerful tremor shook the very foundation of the castle causing fine dust and crushed mortar to trickle from the groaning ceiling. The walls vibrated in sync with the heavy pounding of Stiles' heart which rushed waves of adrenaline through his body with his every step.

"Right.."

The other boy just barely managed to cover up his broadening smile with a soft cough.

"Seems like the Stiles we all know and love is back on track, huh?"

Scott seemed to have caught the last scraps of their hurried conversation and happily re-joined them with a heavy arm clapped onto Stiles' shoulders.

"For some reason, I feel like I'd be a lot happier if I hadn't almost died because of a stupid certain someone."

"No idea what you're going on about, _Scottyboy_. All the extra sugar must've been eating holes into your brain. We'll leave you behind if you can't catch up, just so you know."

Stiles' lips split into a rare genuine smile and he proceeded to navigate their small party through one of the many secret tunnels of the giant fortress.

Scott couldn't suppress a rather unmanly high-pitched squeak when Stiles manhandled him into what seemed like a solid wall hung with expensive looking tapestries.

"How do you * _huff_ * always know these * _pant_ * secret hallways? Aren't they supposed to be more, well, secret?"

"As always, I'd rather not know how you get your hands on state secrets. One of these days, you'll end up in prison and I'll have told you so." The dark-haired boy turned to cast a slightly concerned once-over on Scott who had hung back with his hands resting on his bent knees. His breath came in short exhausted spurts, but he was refusing to drag the group down. The dark-haired's lips pulled into a familiar grin. "By the way, just because they're called ' _invisible_ carbs' doesn't mean you won't actually see them on your belly, Scott."

Scott's initial surprise at the unexpected familiarity quickly gave way to indignation.

His withering stare persevered throughout their entire rushed journey through mazes of narrow corridors and musty, long since unused passageways. Even the other boy's usual grin dropped from his face when they hastily strode through the last door separating them from the main hall.

The onslaught of too bright daylight on their eyes took a few beats to pass. Shielding their eyes against the glare of the sun they took in the scene before them stricken with paralyzing terror. A large window opening to the narrow strip of scorched grass in front of the castle caught Stiles' attention.

An ugly, sinking feeling settled uncomfortably in the depth of his gut.

What they saw in front of them was not a battlefield, it was an utter  _bloodbath_.


	11. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> Uhum, I make no excuses (if anyone has been following this fic until now, which I don't think likely), but here's another chapter, so I hope it'll be enjoyable to read? ^^
> 
> As always, comments and kudos would be very appreciated! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time!  
> Wavyscribe out.

_Our land has once been one of magic and belief. Of hope and revival._

_But it is dying. The greed of humanity has poisoned the earth; their insatiable desire has laid the rivers barren._

_Now the sun rises on an empire of ash. The Roundtable rules over the burnt remains of once picturesque meadows and fields laden down heavily by crop._

_But Lady Destiny is a tricky mistress. No matter the odds, there will always be those who take the reins of Fortune to save what is lost; to restore what was corrupted to its former glory._

_Fate has always worked in mysterious ways. And as much as we seek to direct its course, the destination is never certain._

 

_So I ask of you, dearest reader, when a times comes that blurs the borders of fiction and reality, what truth will your heart choose to follow?_

 

_(From "Memoirs of a Moribund World)_

 

˜*˜

 

A whole is always made up of near innumerable parts, details so to speak. And Stiles could never help but take notice of the small things nobody else saw, appreciating the beauty of objects other people may be prone to calling ugly. But for Stiles nothing is absolute. Nothing is unmovable, everything appears tainted in the observer's own colours.

 

However, that doesn't mean that Stiles won't also appreciate pretty girls.

Which is why he still follows Lydia Martins around like a lost puppy, even when he knows better than anyone that he doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell.   

Which, incidentally, is also the cause for Scott's unique brand of disapproved stare when Stiles is late to their meeting for the third day in a row.

 

"You know, lusting over the school madonna is fine and all, but don't you think you're bordering on slightly obsessed in that department?"

 

Stiles raises his head from where he had face-planted onto the wooden table of their clubroom. He blinks slowly in response to the accusation, then turns away to look at the open window.

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He begins, then takes a sip from his half-full juice box (because Stiles will always be an incorrigible optimist) before he continues. "But even if I did, I wouldn't be. It's just... because I'm a good person?"

 

"Yeah right. That's why I volunteer for cleanup duty three days in a row, too."

 

"W-well, she wasn't feeling well, so I _had_ to..."

 

"Where were you when I broke my arm last month then? Stalking Lydia for charity?"

 

Stiles opened his mouth, affronted and no doubt with an elegant rebuttal in place. While he was at it, there  _has_ to be a perfectly valid reason why he still followed Lydia's every whim despite her having rejected him twice since first year.

However, despite flexing his jaws impressively (while determinedly  _not_ looking like a whale out of water) his mouth failed to fill with the right words.

After a while the some higher power seemed to take pity on his empty mouth and decided to jam a shoulder into it, knocking Stiles sideways against his open locker.

 

"Mmpfh.", came Stiles eloquent reaction before he spluttered and took a step back from the onslaught of murderous body parts.

 

The offending shoulder had brushed past him now and Stiles could see that it was connected to a very tall, very constipated, but only vaguely familiar looking boy wearing the human equivalent of sour milk as an expression.

Their collision had caused his books to scatter to the floor in a flurry of paper and dust. With a gruff huff tall guy bend down to gather his fallen possessions. In a small chaos of limbs and books he somehow managed to gather the books from the floor to a semi-neat pile back on his arms. 

 

When Stiles made to reach for the last book that was still lying on the ground, their hands knocked together on top of its cover and tall guy pulled his hands away as if he'd been electrocuted. Stiles could've sworn that he heard the guy growl in his direction. The very real image of his hand getting bitten off swept through his mind and Stiles blanched, taking a step back.

Without another word, tall guy stood back up and continued on his way as if nothing had happened. He hadn't even as much as glanced into Stiles' direction.

 

Stiles only learned later that day from the gossiping girls in his class who were blushing and chattering away just steps away from his desk that some poor sucker had made Derek Hale, the son of the principal, drop his books in the hallway this morning.

_Oh no._

 


	12. Frontal Assault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I'm back with a shortish chapter (but hey, at least there is some).  
> I hope I'll be able to make the plot lines a bit more clear in the coming chapters, so please stay with me.  
> Also, come say hi in the comments 'cuz constructive criticism is always welcome! ^o^
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time!  
> Wavyscribe out.

_Stiles dreamed of empty darkness. He dreamed of weightlessness and cold. Suspended in the velvety embrace of neither dream nor reality, but somehow somewhere in between._

_He felt strange but calm, slowly being suffocated by a false tranquility._

_His mind churned slowly, rusted clogs turning languidly as if coming to life after a long period of stillness. As if moving through molasses, his senses remained dull, barely feeling at all. Half an eternity seemed to pass while he floated through the unchanging landscape of shadows._

 

_Just as he came to the slow realisation that he might be trapped forever with no chance of escape, a light appeared faintly in the distance. Its weak glow reached through to his sore eyes like the sun through columns of crashing waves. Slowly but surely, the tension began to seep out of his shoulders lifting the jarring fog permeating his sluggish mind._

 

_"Is it ready? The spell. Is it ready yet?"_

_The disembodied voice of a panicked women pierced through the loaded silence. As she spoke, her figure expanded. What he'd first seen as a fragile light grew less faint and gradually, further details faded in. A stern face took shape in front of him. It felt so intimately familiar to Stile, yet he found himself unable to place it._

_Eventually, a pounding pain in his head blew away his last efforts to remember. Instead, he focused more closely on the scene unfolding before him._

 

_The speaker he had heard was pacing up and down a dimly lit room, its walls stripped of any kind of decoration, leaving only cold and hard stone. Another, more quiet voice spoke._

 

_"Yes, mistress. We have concluded the last inspections. But-." The voice halted, as if hesitating, unsure of whether to go on or to fall quiet again._

_"What is it?"_

 

_The second voices stuttered and a few seconds passed by. The room suddenly felt much colder. The flickering flames of the fireplace receded from the bare walls, leaving only shadows immersed in their ghostly dance._

 

_"We could't find her. The girl, she-"_

_"_ Halt _."_

_The woman stilled her pacing and turned. She cast a weary look about the room and settled on Stiles' hovering form with a start. Her eyes found his and seemingly held his gaze. He felt his heart growing cold with the intensity that seemed to peer straight into his soul._

 

_"He is here. The spark."_

_"But mistress, the academy has been breached. Our men are burning its pesty magics as we speak. No resistance will remain. The spark has been extinguished, we shall-"_

_He "_ Silence _" The woman held up her gloved hands and started chanting something unintelligible to Stiles's ears under her breath. Green miasma soon began rapidly gathering in the hollow of her palm, the swirls of poisonous emerald strangely entrancing to watch._

 

_Stiles was gone before the ball of energy shattered on the wall just behind the space he had occupied moments ago._

 

 

˜*˜

 

 

Stiles knew that he shouldn't be messing with people he knew were _so_ much further up the social ladder than him. He knew that but he'd also been chasing after Lydia Martins for all these year. He hadn't stopped even when she'd always been so far out of his league that it was laughable, even to himself.

In a word, Stiles had a non-existent sense of self-preservation. 

 

So it comes as no surprise that the first thing he did after waking up with a start was to scream and hit tall guy in the face.

Said boy recoiled in pain and tripped over a few chairs, causing the second historic book shower of the day. He landed somewhere on the floor between 'Teen Romance' and - Stiles squinted at the library shelf - 'The Wonders of Nature' aisle.

Horror began to pool deep in his gut and Stiles felt himself reminded of the time he threw up on his gym teacher when they practiced running for the school marathon back in first year. Only this time he wouldn't get away with a few choice words and a trip to the infirmary. He very much felt that the infirmary was going to become his second permanent home as things currently stood.

In some sort of masochistic daze his limbs refused to obey his commands or do anything but tremble ineffectively while tall guy slowly got back to his feet, a murderous expression etched onto his scratched up face. Stiles felt his chances of survival slip down further with each new cut he noticed. 

 

Between wondering whether a single punch could make his entire face bleed or if it would take two, tall guy had already approached his wobbly chair in his steady advance. He leant down to face him fully, breath tickling Stiles' ear.

 _There were worse ways to go_ , Stiles supposed. He'd closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable contact of something painful with the squishy parts of his face.

 

An impact that never came.

Stiles blinked his eyes open slowly. Brown eyes peered into his while puffs of air brushed against the hair on his nape periodically. Stiles blinked some more at their position.

 

_Any minute now._

 

Tall guy jerked and Stiles shut his eyes reflexively. His throat felt uncomfortably dry when he swallowed.

He waited, but the warmth didn't leave his face. Instead, a small weight dropped on his legs and settled somewhere teetering on the edge of his lap. Tentatively, Stiles opened one eye and peered curiously at the object.

 

"You dropped this.", came a gruff voice just beside his right ear and Stiles shivered, the sensation travelling over the back of his head and down his rigid spine. He felt a bead of sweat running down the curve of his ear.

Suddenly and just as quickly as he had entered Stiles' private space, tall guy had pulled out again. As if the past minutes were all a figment of his imagination, the heat left the side of his face. Without another word tall guy had already disappeared behind another book shel. Before Stiles had regained enough presence of the mind to even muster an answer, the last traces of him - save for a few books gathering dust on the floor - had vanished. 

Oddly enough, he found that he missed the unexpected warmth of his proximity. Stiles reached up to rub the spot behind his right ear that still felt slightly tingly and hot. Then he shook himself, heart rate returning slowly to normal after the sharp spike of adrenalin.

 

_What a weirdo._

 

He looked down to see that a piece of worn paper attached to a red string had fluttered gingerly onto his thighs. A pressed daisy, once brilliantly white but now faded to a dirty yellow smiled back at him, half covered by the fabric of his jeans. A smile slowly crept onto Stiles' face.

 

_But a nice weirdo, I guess._

 

 

 


	13. It's a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I'm currently working hard to get the plot rollin' and the chapters out there, so encouragement in form of comments and kudos are very welcome, as always!  
> :D
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time!  
> Wavyscribe out.

Stiles is _sure_ that he'd offended some higher deity in some past life.

Even  _he_ wasn't clumsy enough to casually anger people who could easily break him over their knee. Twice. On the same _day_ even.

 

So when he felt a hand tugging at his shoulder during lunch break (He'd forgotten his lunch box,  _what a day_ ), all he did was to give a noncommittal shrug and bury his head further in between his arms. But the person wasn't easily discouraged and only rattled at his arm more fiercely. 

 

_Damn it._

 

"Whu es et?" He mumbled without bothering to lift his heavy head.

 

Instead of an answer he felt the soft tap of a cup against his head and his mind lit up with recognition.

 

 

Stiles all but inhaled the cup of coffee Scott set in front of his face. The scalding fluid burned his tongue and throat but he felt strangely numb to the sensation.

Also,  _coffee_.

Scott smiled at him but remained otherwise silent while Stiles managed to slowly return to being an _almost_ functional human being.

 

"So", Scott began but then caught himself as if deliberating over which words to use. After a moment he seemed to reach an inner consensus. Dark eyes turned to look at his best friend who was still busy with the hot beverage. He put a hand to his chin in a thoughtful gesture and nodded once to himself before speaking.

"Are you sleeping with Derek Hale?"

 

Stiles spluttered, crushing the fragile paper cup between his fingers in the process. Hacking and hurting he turned to the voice of his friend, an indignant look on his face. Another coughing fit took over his body and he crouched forward with its oncoming force.

He was lucky the cup had already been mostly drained of its contents. He did _not_ want to deal with spilling hot coffee all over himself on top of everything else that had happened today. Once his lungs had calmed down and weren't constantly screaming fiery murder at his brain anymore, he swivelled in his chair and fixed Scott with the most disapproving of glares.

 

_Never had an innocent cup of coffee inspired him to such intense feelings of hatred and betrayal._

 

"What are you even talking about?"

 

Scott paused to look him in the eye, searching quietly. However, he must not have found what he was looking for as he turned away with a disappointed huff just moments later.

 

"So you knocked his books on the floor."

"Uhm-"

"Twice."

"Uh, I-"

" _No one_ lives to tell the tale, not when it's  _him_."

 

Scott directed a meaningful stare at him but continued on when he was met with a wall of blank bewilderment.

 

"You gave him a bloody nose."

" _No_ , I was just-"

"Stiles, did you or did you not punch Derek in the face?"

 

Stiles averted his eyes and slowly nodded affirmative.

 

"Mind telling me then, how you're still alive if you're not currently shacking up with him?"

" _Scott_!" A scandalised squeak left his lips before he could rein his vocal chords back under his control.

 

"I'm listening?"

"I, uhm-, I dunno...?"

 

His best friend held his sheepish smile for a few silent seconds. Finally, he relented with a frustrated sound.

 

"You know that I love ya like a brother, right?"

 

Confused, Stiles nodded slowly, unsure of the point his best friend was trying to make.

 

"Ah, I give up-"

 

Scott threw his arms up in resignation, then proceeded to pick up the remains of Stiles' coffee cup from his wet palm. He aimed it at the trash can in the far corner of the classroom and shot it off in a narrow parabola.

 

"Well, at least you're off Lydia's case for now. Maybe that's good."

 

The balled up cup missed its trajectory and skidded off the far wall. 

Stiles felt time physically slow down when he noticed with horror that Derek had just stepped into the room. He knew what was going to happen but could do nothing to stop the scene from happening.

 

For a few heart-stopping seconds the clumped up cup hovered in mid-air, turning and veering slowly before it fell back to the earth...

...landing right on Derek's sweatshirt leaving an ugly, dirty brown stain before fluttering to the ground in a heap of sadness.

 

Tall, dark and constipated was _definitely_ not amused by any stretch of the word.

 

" _Whoops_ , guess that's my cue to give the happy couple some privacy, huh? See you at practice!"

"We're not-"

 

With a skip in his steps Scott hoisted his bag and hastily escaped through the classroom's second set of doors, leaving Stiles to fend for his own all by his lonesome for the third time in a day.

His heart skidded to a jarring halt when Derek rapidly approached and slammed his hand down hard on his desk. Stiles feared for the wobbly old wood that barely still held together. He had been surprised of their sturdiness when he'd repeatedly banged his head against the wood minutes before.

Once again, glowing brown eyes kept him frozen to the spot. The classroom - filled to the brim with loud and boisterous screeches not long ago - suddenly calmed, seemingly holding its breath alongside Stiles in mutual anticipation.

Unblinking, Derek took another step to close the distance between them and shifted so he could directly talk into Stiles' ear. In dutiful memory to the free period this morning his spine shivered uncomfortable.

He hated the way his jaw clamped shut with the tension.

It felt like a sweaty eternity before the other boy finally began to speak.

 

"Meet me behind the training shed after school. Don't-"

 

Derek stopped to level him with the look of a guy who hadn't been on proper toilet for _months_.

 

"-be late. I'll be waiting."

 

Stiles blanched and the nervous chatter of his class picked up again, this time more than doubled in volume. He felt his fear and strained nerves being swept up by the crowd, amplified to several times of their original size and then sent back to him via the occasional harsh comment.

Derek had long since disappeared into the shifting crowd when Stiles' head thumped onto his desk, tightly encircled by his arms. He knew he'd had it coming for miles in advance and now he was finally going to have to pay his due.

 

_Stiles's definitely offended some higher power in his past life._

_Now that Scott had betrayed him, it was only him against a dude who'd probably bench-press him for entertainment. Although he couldn't imagine a smile lighting up Derek's face instead of his seemingly constantly_ _scowl._

 

_Apparently this was his life now._

_But if what his gut instincts were telling him proved to be right, it wouldn't be long anymore._

 

_For better or for worse._

 

 


	14. Crushing on Daisies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I'm back with another update. I feel it's getting a bit closer to the chapter size I want to write.  
> As always, comments/kudos would be greatly appreciated!  
> Don't forget to leave one if you like the story (or notice something I could do better). :D
> 
> Until next time!  
> Wavyscribe out.

Stiles felt strangely numb and emotionless - save for maybe a vague sense of impending doom - while he tried to delay the inevitable, stalling time at his locker.

So far he'd managed to rearrange his stickers so much that their back kept peeling off by themselves. So _of course_ he'd have to remedy that with more pressing.

That's how Scott found him.

Stiles gave an embarrassing squeak when he felt a hand clap him on his shoulders. Scott jerked his arm back in alarm, eyes wide and arms up in awkward angles. After a few seconds of silence he shook his head and stepped closer to let the people behind him pass by.

 

"What's up with you again? I swear, _every_ time you-"

The dark-haired stopped as if reconsidering his word. Then he shrugged dropping his duffle bag between his legs to free his arms.

"You know what? I don't even wanna know."

A moment passed between them and Stiles felt his heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

 

"So."

Scott began, cracking his knuckles noisily. The brunette cringed slightly at the sound but didn't dare open his mouth.

"Why are you hanging 'round here instead of heading to practice? Coach's gonna chew off your head if you're late again."

 

Stiles shrugged in answer, eyes not meeting his friend's.

"I- I may have something else I need to do before that."

 

Scott's eyebrows crunched up in confusion as if he was unable to imagine anything more pressing than being forced to run laps as punishment. Then his eyes lit up suddenly in understanding.

"I-is it something because of... your dad? Is something wrong w-"

 

"NO!"

The amber-eyed hesitated and discreetly checked around them to see if anyone had caught his outburst. Luckily the hallway seemed to have already cleared out of most students. For the day at least.

The afternoon sun sent some rays through the back window, illuminating some of the dust hovering serenely in the air. It was uncommonly quiet, even for this time of day. Where there were usually some stray people lounging around in front of their lockers waiting for a friend in the bathroom or a girlfriend from the neighbouring class, today an eerie silence had taken over, filling the empty space to the brim.

But Stiles could care less when he was about to be brutally murdered. Probably torn apart by bare hands even. 

He shuddered at the image his mind supplied at that.

 

"I mean, no. Dad's alright, it's just-"

"Did Mr. Harrison ask you to carry his lesson materials again?"

 

"I'm not-"

Stiles stopped, an idea forming in his head. He felt bad, lying to his best friend like that but-

"Uhm, yes! There's this thing he wants me to do for him. Don't worry, the Stilesmaster's got this in the bag. Who knows? Maybe I'll be back for practice, before you even miss me."

 

_He's like 80% sure he won't be making it to practice. Not in one piece at least._

 

Stiles grinned, putting confidence he didn't feel into his words. But Scott knew him to well. Stiles could see that his best friend knew _something_ was up but couldn't quite put a finger on what _exactly_ it was.

Instead, he decided to fix Stiles with a suspicious look and waited.

 

"Stiles?"

"Y-yes?"

"What aren't you telling me?"

A sudden realisation seemed to drop into Scott's head just then. His eyes turned cold.

 

"If it's about Lydia again, I swear to god, I'll-"

"No, no I haven't even thought about her today."

 

Stiles felt with a start that he was speaking the truth. Even though his past few year of school had been filled with plans to get him into Lydia's good books, he felt more than just surprised to find that the entire day had passed by without  _one_ thought towards his long-time crush. He also found that thinking of her didn't trigger the familiar, dull ache he'd usually feel constricting around his lungs.

_Hm._

 

Judging by the look on his face, Scott wasn't expecting that response either. He blinked a few times but didn't seem to be able to find anything inherently wrong with Stiles' tone.

 

"Ah- that's... that's good. I'll just-" 

He paused to look at his watch, eyes widening comically at the flashing green numbers it displayed.

"Oh f-, I'm gonna be late. Coach is gonna have me running laps the entire time again.  _Ugh._ "

The dark-haired reached up to card through his messy hair whilst casting his eyes to the ceiling. Stiles wasn't entirely sure whether he'd imagined the words of prayer he heard. A frustrated sound escaped his best friend and he took off, a duffle bag trailing haphazardly after him. However, after just a few steps something stopped him and he turned around to face Stiles again.

 

"You!"

Stiles startled in the process of closing his locker, banging his elbow on the cold metal frame in the process. Before he could put on a mask of innocence to show Scott, his best friend was already barreling on.

"Don't get yourself in trouble. Or so help me-!"

 

The doors to the school yard swung shut before Scott was able to finish voicing his threat.

 _Maybe that was good thing_ , Stiles thought quietly to himself.

One was already  _plenty_ for today.

 

At least things couldn't get _worse_ anymore, could they?

 

 _Famous last words_. Couldn't do better if he tried.

 

Setting his shoulders and squaring his jaw, Stiles pushed open the doors Scott had just exited from, albeit with a lot less enthusiasm.

Maybe Derek had grown tired of waiting and had gone home already?

 

His last futile hopes shattered like glass on a stone floor when he turned the corner and spied the tall, looming shadow of Mr. Sour and Constipated.

Stiles had to do a double take once Derek's figure came into view more fully.

 

Derek had seemingly changed into another shirt. A blue button-down that complimented his eyes.  _Since when was Stiles this into fashion? He could've sworn he'd put on mismatched socks just this morning._

 

The brunette didn't correct his inner voice that it was  _technically_ Scott who had thrown that cup, even if it had been his coffee. He's not sure a certain someone  _else_  would care much for it either.

 

The other boy was leaning against the side of the old tool shed, occasionally stepping in place as if to calm his nerves. But that was absurd. Why would he be nervous about ripping Stiles a new face? Heck, Stiles himself felt submerged in a weird sense of calm after having left through the back doors. 

Derek must've noticed his approach because his head turned, face twisting into an expression Stiles couldn't really place. It almost felt like... anticipation? But why would he...? Except if he was  _into_ that kinda thing,

A cold horror seeped into his gut. This was not going to end pretty, Stiles could feel it.

 

The guy in question took a few steps into his direction, hair almost golden in the light of the setting sun. The scene vaguely reminded Stiles of an old painting he was sure he'd seen on one of their trips to the museum.

But no. Stiles shook himself. It was too late to discover his flair for the arts when _he'd_ look the part of a piece of abstract art before the end of the day.

 

Derek's eyes shifted on his face, expression hopeful and open.  He took a few more steps towards him when it was clear that Stiles sure wasn't inclined to walking to his doom  _himself_. A hand came up when a sharp gust of wind blew his hair into his face and Stiles stopped short.

 

 

Either he was hallucinating from the adrenalin high or _Derek Hale, Constipated Extraordinaire, was clutching a bunch of daisies to his chest like a pre-teen girl with a crush._

Stiles thought his mind just broke a little bit more.

 


End file.
